The Darkened Love
by rain-days
Summary: Sequel to "Serving the Scarecrow". Melissa,an ex-patient, moved on with her life after assisting in Dr.Crane's crimes. After he's lost everything, he tries to win her back- while her fiance is serving as his newest test subject for "Night Terrors"
1. Happy Birthday

**Author's Note:** _(My readers should know how much I LOVE reviews!... A lot)(And sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes. I'm not much of a reviser). (This story is set AFTER the movie takes place)._

_Begins with fluffyness, but after this... not much fluffyness will follow. This was just to lay out the 'scene'. __Also, in this fanfic, Jonathan Crane might appear a bit out of character because I'm planning on writing him in a 'darker' way. Those are my intentions, but my story intentions aren't always written out. Maybe not 'darker', but... maybe that the inner works of his mind and his desperation will be more apparent. Enjoy._

**Disclaimer:** _Don't own Batman Begins, any of the Batman movies or comics, Gotham, or the characters from the movies or comics. Characters that aren't in the movies or comics are mine, though. (ie: Alrick, Melissa). (So take your sticky hands off of them!)._

* * *

_Sequel to Serving the Scarecrow:  
_**The Darkened Love**

_Chapter One:  
_**Happy Birthday**

* * *

"Ah, c'mon, Alrick!" She begged. "Where are you taking me?" Alrick's soft green eyes flickered up to her blue ones and he gave a hearty laugh as he leaned back into the soft leather of the limousine. He shrugged one shoulder and tilted his head to the side, bringing a small glass of wine to his lips. Even as he was drinking the sweet wine, he couldn't force his lips down. The corners were seemingly cemented curled upwards in a broad smile. He had attended countless acting lessons with his sister when he was young, but none had rubbed off on him. He couldn't act or pretend to save his life. Alrick held up the bottle to his fiancee with his eyebrows raised in a questioning way. With a pouting frown on her lips, she reluctantly held out her glass to him. He poured her half a glass and let his grin soften into a smile.

"As charming as you can be Melissa, you can be quite nagging and whining when it comes to surprises." The words came smoothly with no hint of unkindness.

"_Surprises_." Melissa said the word as if it was the most ridiculous thing ever thought of. "I'm not the type of girl for surprises."

"Tell me about it. The first time I gave you flowers, I had to go to the emergency room for stitches. What a time explaining that to the doctors. 'My girlfriend hit me with a bottle because I gave her flowers'."

"That's not fair! I didn't hit you because you gave me flowers. I wasn't even you're girlfriend at the time. Plus, it isn't like you showed up at the door with the flowers. You were waiting inside my house when I got home. Not even out in the open, not waiting in the light, you had to be hiding! You brought the bottle upon yourself. You just had to sneak up behind me to surprise me, didn't you? I thought you were– I don't even know. A robber, escaped convict, you could've been anyone! I just protect myself, that's all."

By this time, Alrick was running his finger along a small scar near his hairline of where the bottle had hit him. "Well... You were surprised by it. That was my aim in the first place." He ran his hand over his smoothed-back chocolate-colored hair.

"You were an idiot then and you're an idiot now." Melissa said without remorse. He flashed another small grin and she couldn't help but laugh. She briefly ran her hand down his olive-complexion face before turning away from him. She sat close to him, her arms wrapped around his arm the rest of the drive. "But I don't know what'd I'd do without you and your stupidity." He nodded in agreement with this comment as he glanced as his golden wrist watch. Things were moving along smoothly.

It had been a three hour drive. The car had moved along freeways and highways, town roads and country roads, and by the time they stopped, quite a bit of dust had gathered along the sides of the limousine. The driver frowned at the sight of it, but Alrick paid it no attention, dismissing it with "Well if it's that much of a bother to you... We can stopped at someone's else along the way and spray it clean with a hose." Then gave him a solid pat on the shoulder before smoothing out any wrinkles that may have formed on his pin-striped tuxedo. After making sure he was decent enough, he turned to offer his hand to Melissa. She stepped onto the ground wearing a form-fitting black dress that fell to her knees, the dress becoming gradually looser at the hips for easier moving.

She looked into the blackness of the forest for a silent moment, then turned to Alrick with a questioning look on her face. He was busy looking at the night sky dotted with stars. "The moon's bright tonight, isn't it? Good. Don't want to be tripping in the woods... Just look at all of those stars, Melissa! Never could see them in the city." Before she could comment, he began to lead her along a path in the woods.

"Alrick, I don't know-"

"Trust me, Melissa." He passed her a glance and offered a reassuring smile before squeezing her hand gently.

The moon was not the only light that lit the way for them. Every few yards, there was a small fire on the ground. Melissa opened her mouth to ask about these, but Alrick only shook his head. In silence they walked for fifteen minutes, Alrick carefully helping Melissa over dead logs and pointing out small puddles of water to her so she would not step in them. Alrick whispered quietly: "Close your eyes, Melissa." And she did. "Don't peek." He reminded her. She nodded. He pulled her a few more steps ahead before taking a deep breath and saying "Ok, go ahead. Open your eyes."

When she opened them, she saw a small clearing with a small table set up in the middle. Candles were lit on the tables, and a basket set in the center of the table. "I found this place a few years ago while horse-back riding. Loved it. I haven't brought anyone here before. I thought... maybe we could celebratd her twenty-first birthday here, Melissa..." He looked at Melissa, who was staring at the scene in silence. Nervous, he took a breath and continued on, "I mean, I know it isn't much. I could've taken you to any restaurant or thrown you a big party with more than a hundred guests, or I could've... and I would've, too. I would." He nodded, "I would... But I just came up with this on my own. I didn't get any advice or anything, I did this all on my own. I mean... I had people come out and set up the fires and the table and whatnot, but I mean... I didn't have as much help as I could've. I just wanted you to-"

"I love it." She said quietly. "Thank you, Alrick." He smiled and dropped his eyes to his shoes.

* * *

After the late-night dinner, they took their time walking back to the limousine. They moved into the limo, settingling into the backseat. The car began to roll over the country roads, back to the highways and freeways of the city from where they came. Melissa rested her head on his shoulder and he put an arm around her, letting his head rest on the back of the leather seat. He could feel himself drifting in and out of sleep. He was half-dreaming and half-awake when, barely above a whisper, he said "I love you, Melissa." He did not expect her to hear. He was sure that she had been asleep, but she replied back "I love you, too." Those were the last words that Alrick said before falling asleep. 

A heavy feeling in his stomach made him open his eyes groggily. It was not a feeling of sickness, he could tell, but it was a feeling that something was happening. Something that he should be awake for. Alrick stifled a yawn and carefully leaned Melissa off his shoulder. The backseat of the limo was being flooded by lights of red and blue. He squinted his eyes, looking again down to his watch. It was nearly two-thirty in the morning. He looked out through the back windshield to see a cop car sitting behind them. Alrick looked out of the windows. They were stopped on some back country road. Again he yawned as he watched a man in a police uniform walk up to the driver's side of the car.

Melissa was slowly waking. She sat up in the seat and looked at the cop as he passed Alrick's window. She looked out of the window to see another cop walking towards the limo window. She folded her arms across her chest, rested her head against the door, and closed her eyes again– making no attempt to stay awake. Hearing the officer ask for the driver's license, she opened her eyes and mouth to ask Alrick for his overcoat. She stopped herself before she spoke, her attention suddenly drawn to the driver and the cop. Before there was time to do anything, a BANG went off the front seat. The cop pulled his gun out of the window as the driver fell over into the seat. He quickly mvoed to the back of the car, pulling the door open.

Alrick had his feet toward the door, trying to protect Melissa behind his back, moving her against the oppsite side of the car. The cop pulled opened the door and received a kick to the jaw from Alrick. "Melissa, GO!" Without hesistation, Melissa opened the door and got out, only to stumble into the arms of another man.

Alrick heard Melissa's voice shout a "Let me go!" and he quickly looked to see who had her. It was then that the cop reached into the car and pulled him out, throwing him to the dirt road. Before he could move, the cop smacked his ribs with his baton.

"STOP!" Melissa was struggling to reach Alrick. The man holding her only twisted her arm behind her back and pulled her back to him. She did not see where else Alrick was hit, but she saw the baton raise in the air and heard the thump of it hitting Alrick. Melissa was being pulled back to the cop car, despite her shoutings and attempts to wrestle against the man. She looked back to Alrick. He was being half-carried and half-dragged to the cop car by two men. Tape was over his mouth and had hands were cuffed behind his back. Bruises were already coloring his face.

"Stop it! What do you– Just let him go! Please! PLEASE!" She watched as the man moved him to the back of the cop car, "What are you doing with him?! STOP!" She could hardly see what was happening through the tears in her eyes. They had opened the trunk, pushed Alrick's unconscious body into it, and slammed the trunk. The two men moved into the front seat. "Let him out!" Melissa shouted as she was pushed into the backseat. The man that had grabbed her got in next to her, and closed the door behind him. The car began moving.

Her hands were cuffed infront of her and tape was put over her mouth as well. During the process of all of this, her thoughts were on Alrick. He probably had broken bones from the beating! What if he had internal bleeding?!

"There, there, there, Melissa. It wasn't that bad, was it?" The voice spoke calmly to her from her left. It was then that she noticed that she was in the center of two men. The one that had grabbed her and the one that was speaking to her.

"No...no, it wasn't that bad at all." He answered his own question. She didn't want to look at him. She felt his fingers against her cheek, turning her face towards his. She closed her eyes tightly. He began to softly wipe her eyes with a tissue, "You don't need to cry anymore. It's all done. You're perfectly fine."

"I've missed you, Melissa. Three long years, but you're back with me." Melissa couldn't help it. She opened her eyes to see the icy glacier eyes of Jonathan Crane's looking back into hers with gentleness.

She started to cry again, sobbing into the duct tape against her mouth.

* * *


	2. Introductions

* * *

_Chapter Two:_

**Introductions**

* * *

Jonathan Crane sat patiently in an uncomfortable wooden chair, staring down to Alrick on the floor. Alrick seemed like nothing too impressive. _It must be the wealth_, Jonathan's thoughts murmured. Melissa had grown up in the Narrows. It would be understandable why a young women would want to avoid going back to that life at any cost. _But you weren't poor- _another voice echoed _-you were the top psychologist, one of the youngest doctors...and yet she still ran away from you._ He cracked his jaw as his eyes floated down to the creme-colored folder in his hands. He opened the cover, his fingers leafing through the papers though he had already done so a dozen times in the weeks before.

His blue eyes looked back to Alrick. He had groaned softly and was now rolling his head from one side to the other. _Maybe it was his looks that brought Melissa to him._ Alrick, Jonathan could tell without reading the papers in the folders, could easily have any girl, young woman, or mother that he wanted. It could not be denied that Alrick could easily resemble a statue of some Greek god. It made the hatred for the young man grow in Jonathan's chest. If he had attended highschool with Alrick, there was no doubt that they'd be on opposite ends of the social ladder. Alrick would be the brainless jock that the girls swooned over while Jonathan was the brain that was only talked to when a classmate wanted to copy off of his homework. People like Alrick always got whatever they wanted. Handed to him on a golden platter. _Like Melissa_.

"You shouldn't try to move too much, Alrick. You may have a broken rib or two. If not, then you at least have bruised bones." Alrick's eyes opened to look back into Jonathan's. Alrick's eyebrows dropped into a scowl.

"Where is she?"

"Safe."

"I want to see her!"

Alrick only received a blank stare at his demand. A full minute passed before Jonathan took in a deep breath as he looked back down to the papers. "So... The wealth in your family has been passed on for generations. Each generation has found it's own way to add to the bank amount, though. I see that you're older sister Angelica is an actress in London. Mostly plays but she's been in a few independent movies. You're uncle James designed a new line of rifles. Your parents had quite a line of champion horses that have won them a decent amount." Alrick's eyebrows were quirked at hearing this information. Jonathan continued on, "You had a five year old brother named Gavin that was killed ten years ago while on the usual winter sleigh ride that your family opens to the public. Caught under the sleigh."

"How- how–?"

Jonathan looked up to him, "It's simple, really. Hire somebody to find out about you. Offer the right amount, and they can scrape together you're whole life... Some of these are newspaper clippings. Blame the media. Blame the public for their ridiculous interest in the lives of the wealthy." He scoffed. Alrick made him think of Bruce Wayne. When his parents had died, the whole city had to mourn. If it was a child from the narrows that was made an orphan, well it was simply to a foster-care home with a 'Tough luck, kid'.

"I just want to see Melissa. I just want to know she's alright. Please don't hurt her. I'll pay anything. My family will pay anything. Just please let her go. I'll stay for as long as you need me to, but please let Melissa go. She didn't do anything."

"You are not the most important thing in everyone's life, Alrick. The sooner you get that through you're thick skull, the better off we will all be. Including Melissa."

"Are we being ransomed?" Confusion was clear on Alrick's face.

"No." It was a short answer. He stood up, walking across the cracked cement floor to Alrick. "You and Melissa were not taken because of who you are, Alrick. You and Melissa were taken because of who she is. I would've easily had you killed on that road with the driver, but I don't think Melissa would've been all too pleased with me if I did. Leaving you there would be a risk of being caught, though. I had no choice but to bring you along." This was all said in a very as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

A moment of silence dropped between them. Alrick opened his mouth but apparently changed his mind about what he was going to say. Jonathan's expression was in its usual unreadable expression, the complete opposite of Alrick's expression. Confusion and worry were obvious on his face as he again struggled to find his voice. Jonathan tilted his head to the side patiently.

"Who are you?"

"Dr. Jonathan Crane."

"You're, you're the one from the nuthouse-"

"The mental institution in Gotham? Yes. Arkham Asylum. I had been the psychopharmacologist for quite some time. The head psychologist as well."

"You're– you're one of them that they didn't catch. You were... you_ are_ crazy. They put you in your own asylum. You had escaped. They're after you... The newspapers..."

"Yes, I had seen those papers. They ran for a while. You can just how well-equipped the law-enforcement is in Gotham." He scoffed as he looked past Alrick to the bland cement walls. "True enough, I was a public enemy for some time... But then, once weeks past and I still wasn't found, I wasn't mentioned any longer. The city officials do not like reminders of how they've failed..." _You're failure with Melissa, for example_. "Not that anyone takes enjoyment in how they've lacked... Losing Arkham, losing Melissa--"

"'Losing Melissa'?" Alrick repeated and Jonathan gave a small nod to confirm that he had heard correctly. "Where is she? I want to see her."

"I can't let that happen. If it eases your mind: hurting Melissa is the last thing on my mind." He explained calmly, walking around Alrick. He knelt to the floor, grabbing Alrick's cuffed hands in his. "I wouldn't do such a thing to her. Don't worry." He pulled the gold band off of Alrick's ring finger and stood up, examining it. Turning it, he noticed inner writing that wrote: _My heart is hers_. "Isn't that sweet?" He looked up to one of the men standing in the corner of the room, "Get the doctor and tell him he can come in now." The man left the room and Jonathan turned to look back down to Alrick.

"Give me my ring back!"

"No."

"Give it to me, you sick freak!" In the next instant, Jonathan's foot landed against the center of Alrick's chest. Alrick winced it pain and Jonathan could see he was biting his lip to hold back from shouting in pain. It caused a new feeling of satisfaction to Jonathan.

"Do not make me regret my hospitality." Alrick looked back up to him and Jonathan's lip twitched in an attempt to sneer. He put Alrick's engagement ring on his own ring finger. Looking down to the ring, he opened and closed his fist a few times. "It fits quite well." Alrick turned his head away and Jonathan walked to the door, meeting the doctor in the doorway.

"Anything particular this time, Crane?"

"Induce a fever. A few nightmares of his own should keep him in line." The doctor nodded.

"And how is Melissa doing?"

"The girl is sleeping soundly and comfortably. I gave her a few relaxers. She was frantic and hysterical. She should sleep until... at the earliest, nine or ten in the morning. Besides the injections, I'm sure she's exhausted anyway– not only physically but mental-" He stopped himself before finishing the statement. Jonathan was glaring coldly at him. The doctor cleared his throat but said nothing more as he looked away.

Without another word, Jonathan left the room. The Scarecrow was chuckling in his ear.


	3. Less Than Arkham

* * *

_Chapter Three:_

**Less Than Arkham**

* * *

He had once been her doctor. For months, he was the only man that had been able to come near her. Not that she had known it, but Dr. Crane had forbidden all other doctors to attend to her. Because he was the top, they all took it as he knew what he was doing. That or else he was trying to get all the glory to himself. He only allowed the nurses to see Melissa. They were hardly the same nurses. Because of this, Melissa became accustomed to Dr. Crane. She was curious of him, of his blank and unemotional stares, but she was not interested in learning about him. He had tried, like doctors do, to have conversations with her. Conversations on her old family, her foster family, her childhood, life as she knew it before being placed in Arkham. She'd remain silent for their meetings, staring out of the windows most of the time. Looking into his eyes was a movement that she had tried to avoid. His eyes were intense and piercing. They seemed to rip you down into nothing.

His hands had clamped around her neck after he had hit her down to the floor. He was angry with her, she knew. She had crossed the line by the filthy looks she gave him, by the tone of voice she had used. He did not liked to be looked down upon. While he was chocking the 'rudeness' from her, there had been a great darkness coming from the doctor that she had not noticed at the time. He had kidnaped and drugged her by then, but that was not what she should've been afraid of the most. What should've scared her the most was the anger that came when he was undermined. It was the delight that came from her doctor while he was chocking her. It was the slip of his blankness, how he had started the mockery of her misery. "Are you going to be a good girl?" Then had held up his scarecrow mask as a way to kill her challenge. "Then I suggest, for your own good, that you start listening to me like a good girl would."

"Run, Melissa!" Alrick had shouted to her frantically. Looking back to him, she saw the police raise their batons and swing them down onto Alrick.

x

"STOP!" She yelled out desperately, sitting bolt upright in the bed. Sweat had gathered on her forehead and neck and her breath was coming in gasps. She sat on a comfortable, warm bed. Melissa wet her lips before letting out a sigh of relief. She was home. It had been a dream. It had all been a terrible dream. A nightmare if not a night-terror. From the corner of her eyes, she saw a figure laying next to her. A small smile found its way to her lips as she reached out to touch Alrick's arm. She moved her hand along his arm before letting it drop to the bed. Something was not right. Slowly, she turned her head to look down to Alrick. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the darkness and once they did, her hands flew to her mouth to muffle the cry of disbelief. It was not her fiancee. It was Jonathan laying next to her.

She moved herself away from him, half stumbling and half falling off of the bed. Melissa crawled across the bedroom floor towards the door and slowly stood up. Turning the knob slowly, she looked over her shoulder to Jonathan. He was still laying motionless under the blankets. It was a painful shock to her eyes when she pulled open the door to a sudden burst of sunlight. Jonathan had put dark, heavy curtains over the windows to block out the sunlight. Melissa quickly moved through the doorway, pulling the door behind her. She jogged down the short, narrow hall and, because the side effects of the drugs were still wearing on, stumbled down a staircase into the main level. Her eyes searched for a door and, through the kitchen and livingroom, she found on. She made her ways through the rooms, stumbling again from a sudden wave of side effect, but she was near enough to the door to grab the handle. Melissa nearly laughed at the happiness of finding a door.

Turning the knob and pulling on the door gave her stomach a sudden jolt of fear. The door would not open. Standing up, she yanked on the door– but it did not open. "No...You can't..." She whispered as she again pulled on the door. Again, it did not open. Melissa took a step back and looked at the door up and down. Near the top, there was a padlock. Melissa let out a huff of air, shaking her head. Her eyes flew to the window and she moved to the closest one to her. She pulled back the thin curtain and she saw metal bars on each side of the window. She repeated this three more times and three different windows– but all had ths same result. Swallowing hard, she sat on the floor, her back against the wall, holding her head in her hands.

"Before when you had stayed with me, I was the one always up before you were." She did not have to look up to see that it was Jonathan. "But, in situations such as this, I can understand."

"A situation that you put me in. Just like before. This is all of you're doing."

"You had put yourself in Arkham by murdering your family, Melissa. Don't blame me for that. Yes, I did kidnap you from Arkham, but you didn't have to stay. It was your own offering that you'd work for me. Even after your offer, I still provided other options."

"Options that either ended up with me crazy, the rest of my life in Arkham or prison, or dead."

"You made you're choice, didn't you?" Jonathan asked with raised eyebrows. She lifted her eyes to look at him. "You had made the offer. You said 'I'll get you anyone you need'. I believe it was a wise decision. At the time, I wouldn't have had too much of a problem with killing you, but you said you would help. I accepted _your _offer. I gave you a home to live in, I gave you clothes and food and anything you asked for."

"I don't believe I asked for anything."

Jonathan paused for a moment, but then shrugged a shoulder. "Well, I would have... Besides, I think you were beginning to like it, Melissa." She opened her mouth to protest, but Jonathan continued on before she could start. "You felt like you had some grasp of power for the first time in your life, didn't you? You can't deny that. It brought, somewhere deep, deep down, a satisfaction. You got to decide who would live and who would die. You got to act like God. You cannot tell me that you hated it. I know you, Melissa. Morally, you're probably trying to convince yourself that the people you brought me deserved it in some manner... But who are you to decide who deserves death and who does not? Sure, those you may've meet and brought probably did deserve it, but we all have tendencies, at least fleeting moments, to be... morally wrong. It's human nature."

"'Human nature'." Melissa scoffed. She did not want to think of what he had said. She did not want to remember them. She threw her eyes to the door and windows, "Why are there bars and locks?" Melissa suddenly demanded with the most authority in her voice she could pull together at the moment. It was nothing too impressive, even to Melissa. "You're keeping me a prisoner." It was a bitter accusation. "It's no better than Arkham Asylum."

"I know." Jonathan nodded in agreement. "Not at all like Arkham..." He said it fondly as if it had been his home, which, in his mind, it had been. "But...it's somewhat cozy. No screaming, no yelling." He looked at her and pointedly said, "Much easier to sleep when there's no screams of insanity, isn't there?" She said nothing to this, not that he had wanted her to. "The bars and locks were not put up of intentionally keeping you here, though they served that purpose this morning. These bars and locks were put up to keep others out. Precautions that must be taken."

"This place is a fire hazard waiting to happen." She remarked after a moment of silence.

"Well, we will just have to be careful then, won't we? Would you like some breakfast, Melissa?"


	4. The Bitter Breakfast

* * *

_Chapter Four:_

**The Bitter Breakfast**

* * *

"You don't seem as concerned for Alan's sake as much as he was for yours." Jonathan noted as he put down a plate of eggs, toast, and hashbrowns in front of her before sitting across from her with his own plate.

"Alrick." She corrected bitterly, casting Jonathan an expression to match the tone but it was in vain because Jonathan was busy looking at his own plate. Melissa leaned back in the chair and titled her head to the side "And what do you mean by that, _Crane_?"

"There's no need for last-name calling, Melissa. And there is no need for you to be so defensive over it. I was merely saying my opinion on the matter. He had been asking to see you and you have not yet even mentioned him. I said it simply because of... why don't we call it 'curiosity'?" He did not even glance up to Melissa once while saying this, nor did he sound bothered or concerned by it. His entire attention seemed to be on the small task of spreading apple jam over his toast. "If you want to say something on the matter, you're more than welcomed to. If you don't want to comment, I won't bother your relationship with Alan because it isn't my business."

"_Alrick_!" It came out louder, sharper, and in a higher pitch than she had meant it to. At this, Jonathan looked up but said nothing. "His name is not 'Alan', my fiancee's name is 'Alrick'. Alrick. I haven't said anything about him yet or asked to see him because I know that you wouldn't let me. You think of some excuse or some reason against it. And how in the hell can you say that you won't bother my relationship with me after you've kidnaped us and separated us. I don't know what you consider not bothering a relationship is, but to much of the general public– that IS bothering a relationship!" She stared at him, waiting for a reaction. Jonathan took a bite of his toast. Melissa scowled and looked to the glass of juice sitting in front of her.

"I understand. I had meant that I won't bother knowing the details of your relationship with him, Melissa. If it's an unsteady– or steady relationship, I won't press you to find out."

"It's steady. That's why we are getting married. Why else would we be getting married if it was not a good relationship?" She looked back to Jonathan, "You will be giving Alrick breakfast, won't you?"

"We've just woke. We're just now having breakfast. When we are finished, after some time, I will go and deliver him a breakfast. Or I'll have somebody else do it. Either way, I won't starve him to death, Melissa." _"Because that would take too long" _the Scarecrow's laughter echoed through Jonathan's mind

"What are you smiling about?!" It was an accusation.

"Hm?" Jonathan's focus jumped back and he could feel the corners of his lips were turned up in happiness of hearing the Scarecrow's voice again. He did not bother to kill the smile, instead, he let it rest on his lips as watched Melissa. "Pleasurable company." Melissa scowled again. "But, back to the other topic at hand... Not everyone that gets married is in a good, steady relationship. I'm not calling your relationship a bad one, I'm simply saying that there are other reasons that people get married."

"Your breakfast is getting cold." He reminded her, glancing down to her food. She picked up her fork, moving the eggs onto the toast, letting out a huff of air. "Reasons such as... well, you're quite charming. Maybe he sees you as being some sort of trophy wife." The fork dropped on the plate but she did not look up to him or spit out a curse, so he continued on. "It happens. Maybe it's not him taking advantage of you, though. Maybe you're the own that is taking advantage of him... Alrick is from a wealthy family, I know. I can only imagine the inheritance that he will get. Undoubtly, there was some large trust fund money set aside for when he turned eighteen, twenty-one, so on and so forth... That's a far distance from the narrows. You have no desire to return to the Narrows, I know."

She looked at him and shook her head, "No one in their sane mind would want to." As soon as this statement left her mouth, she froze for a moment, staring at him. Dropping her eyes back to her own plate again, she took a bite of the sandwich.

Jonathan felt a small half-smirk, half-smile at the statement and her awkwardness. "You're right. No sane person would want to. But, sometimes people have to do what they don't want to. Such as you getting me the random Gotham citizen to test on."

"It wasn't that I didn't-" She stopped abruptly.

"It wasn't that you didn't want to? You know what that would mean, Melissa. It would mean that you wanted to do it for me. You wanted to help even though you knew what the end result would be."

"I didn't mean it like that!" She shouted, smacking her hand down onto the table. "I meant that... well... I would've rather have gotten you somebody else than be killed myself."

Jonathan nodded in agreement, "Yes. Self-sacrifice is overrated these days."

"No. No! It wasn't to get out of self-sacrifice! Even if I didn't offer help to you, it wouldn't have been self-sacrifice. If I had died, well it isn't like you just wanted one more person and that one would've stopped at me! You would've kept going, so it WASN'T to escape self-sacrifice."

With a single wave of his hand, he tried to shush her. His tone was softer now, "My point was that people try to avoid going back to the Narrows after they leave. Besides the crime on the streets... it isn't uncommon to have some sort of bad memory or two. I've had my fair share of bad memories as have you. Memories that we'd rather not visit, correct? All I meant was that maybe you saw Alrick has a sure way out. A way that you know you wouldn't go back to the narrows. Isn't it possible that...somewhere in the back of your mind, a logical part pointed that out to you and that the rest of the thoughts followed it?"

The birds could be heard chirping outside the kitchen windows. Melissa turned to watch them, but when she turned, her eyes focused on the bars. For a few seconds, she gazed at them before turning her eyes back to Jonathan. "I love him." She said shortly. Her voice was quiet but firm. "I love Alrick, Jonathan. That is why I accepted his proposal."

Jonathan gave a small nod of his head and they each looked down to their own food. The rest of breakfast was ate in silence, neither bothering to say a word to the other, neither looking up to the other.


	5. Bobby

Author's Note: _I felt writer's block-ish and have had this chapter typed out for the last few days. After reading over it many times in attempts to improve, I'm still unsatisfied. But the story must go on, right?_ _Plus, I felt the need to introduce a new character-- even if it's just a quick glimse at the moment. And I also felt the need to keep the story rolling along because of new ideas. Sorry for this chapter's shortness. And thanks to my reviewers so far. _

* * *

_Chapter Five:_

**Bobby **

* * *

Jonathan left to a small room of the house after breakfast, not venturing any words to Melissa. What she was doing, in what room she was, of who of the three other men in the house she may've been talking to, wasn't a current concern of his. He sat at the desk, staring out of the window at the thick forest that began twenty or thirty feet away from the window. He rubbed his face before turning his neck to look at the room. It was wallpapered with a pale yellow paper that had faded pink flowers on it. The room had a single window, which Jonathan's desk was placed in front of so he could look out of it. The desk, the folding metal chair, and a wastebasket were the only things sitting on the floor because of the small size. He had nailed a few single-leveled shelves on the wall on which he had placed a few books.

He scoffed at it all suddenly. It had no comparison to his office at Arkham. The desk he had now looked as if it was twenty years and had to be touched gingerly at the edges to avoid wood slivers. The books were only books from local small town bookstores. Nothing like his library he had in his office or in what was his other home. Those shelves were packed with dozens of psychology books. He hardly had files of any of his past patients. Only those that he had kept in his house or in his briefcase. That didn't really matter much to Jonathan, since the important ones were the ones in his house or briefcase. But to know that he couldn't even glance over the collection of his past cases, the accomplishments or let-downs– that was what bothered him about not having the files.

"So how did b-br-reakfast go?" A voice mumbled behind him.

"Mmh." Jonathan replied. "Hard to say."

A single laugh was let out.

Jonathan looked to the young man standing in the doorway. His dark brown eyes and eyebrows contrasted sharply with his dyed blonde hair that was gelled in a few spikes. He was the long and lean type of build, and Jonathan had doubts of him upon first meeting him. But he was smart, had a talent for stealing and pick-pocketing, as well as picking locks. Looking to his youthful baby-faced appearance, a person would see nothing suspicious about him. It proved quite a few times to be a good trait that Jonathan could make purpose of. Jonathan had met him a month after leaving Gotham and since then Bobby was always one that was ready to prove himself.

"Where is she?"

"L-living room. Watching TV."

Jonathan nodded slowly. "Is there anything on the news or radio about their disappearance?"

"A bit. Big r-reward for any information about t-them."

Jonathan stood, strolling out of his small pathetic-excuse for a study and into the dining room. "Of course there is." He said finally as he pulled a light jacket over his shoulders. "Has anything been said if they're being looked at as victims or as the criminals?" Bobby shook his head. Jonathan sighed as he folded his arms. "Victims, probably... Driver dead, both missing, and we didn't bother to clean up our mess. Probably signs of struggle left behind. Ah-well. It doesn't really matter now. For all they know, the two of them could already be out of the country." He was telling himself this confidently. "What could they have that would lead them to us? Even if they did find some clue that we had done it... " Another scoff. "I mean...I'm _me_. It's been three years and I'm still walking free. Carefully, yes, but free."

His attention focused on Bobby who was watching him patiently, waiting for words to be directed to him. Jonathan took a step closer to Bobby and dropped his voice, "Alrick probably should be given some sort of food. I don't care what it is. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich, salmon, a bowl of wheaties, or sushi... Make sure he gets something though. I don't want him to have to go hungry."

Bobby nodded "Okay...but..?"

"Why don't I want him to go hungry?" Bobby nodded. "He should have some strength. I'm not saying that he should have enough strength that he'll think he's invincible. I want him stable enough to be able to take at least a few good doses of Night Terrors." And as he finished this statement and turned away from Bobby, the Scarecrow's smile grew into something malicious.

* * *


	6. The Schoolhouse

_**Author's Note**: It's been a while, hasn't it?_

* * *

_Chapter Six:  
_  
**The Schoolhouse  
**

* * *

The driveway, the driveway to the only residence on the dead-end dirt road, was uncared for. For a quarter of a mile, the driveway curved up and over a slow slopping hill that was covered in wheat grass. The driveway was merely two narrow paths of dirt from tires rolling along the same path for the last century. The path always came to an abrupt stop for no apparent reason—the hill was not too steep for driving, there were no sudden drops or large potholes—but the vehicles seemed to never roll past that certain point. For as long as vehicles were driven here, they always stopped by the single oak tree that stood on the hill. Bobby parked the rusted ford truck under the tree's branches and carelessly grabbed the paper bag next to him that held a gas-station bough prepackaged peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a package of cheese nips, a banana, orange juice, and M&Ms. Stepping out of the truck, he spit out a piece of bubblegum before turning to the moss-covered 1900s schoolhouse. He began his short walk up the rest of the hill towards the building.

The wooden porch was redone twice in the past, but again was showing signs of weathering. The broken glass was replaced by thick double-paned windows and then twisted metaled-bars placed over those twenty years before when local kids would try to break in. There was a rumor, and had been for decades, that it was haunted and that ringing the school bell would be a sure-way to prove your own guts to friends.

A Gotham family had the school built when one of their sons had married a school teacher from the area who was heartbroken that there was not a school in the area, but only her family's barn to teach in. The son, six years into marriage, went back into Gotham to pick up freshly printed brooks for the schoolhouse but was robbed and murdered in the city. The wife, though distraught, decided to continue the school so that her daughter as well as the rest of the children could have the opportunity of a proper education. The daughter, eight, had drowned in the river one hot summer's day when the class was released early from class so that they could go swimming. The teacher, her mother, blamed herself for her daughter's death and stopped teacher. She was seen less frequently by the townspeople as the weeks past. A couple other woman who she was occasionally talk to, noted that she spoke of her husband's and daughter's death being her fault completely. Her love of teaching lead her husband to Gotham to pick up the books that day, her early dismissal and suggestion of swimming to her class lead to her daughter's drowning. Apparently, she had tried to kill herself by laying on the train tracks—but was pulled away by two police officers. She was then sent to Arkham Asylum.

The schoolhouse, was reclaimed by the family in Gotham but not wanting to hold onto something that pained them so- quickly given away to another family. Through this family—the main name holder gave it to his sister's grandson when he passed, the grandson left it to the name of his favorite nephew that was smart but had always seemed painfully shy in childhood due to stuttering- Robert Dowell. Bobby.

Bobby walked into the large, spacious schoolhouse, closing the door tightly behind him. The main room had oak floors and the chalkboard remained on the front wall. It had been built onto in the fifties—a small kitchen, bathroom, two bedrooms, and a modest office. Bobby stopped in the doorway of the office to regard the doctor who was lost in the charts that were spread before him. "Uh….What's up, Doc?"

The doctor looked up to Bobby with a crooked brief smile before taking his glasses off to rub his eyes. "Good morning, Bobby. Looks like you got a decent sleep… I've gotten about three hours of sleep last night. Not consecutive hours, either." He looked back to his charts, "Crane is…" He shook his head "Well—he knows what he wants. He knows how to go about things. Tiring. I don't think he ever tires."  
Bobby opened the bag and tossed him the bag of M&Ms.

"Came to give the guy br-breakfast. Main dish is p-p-peanut butter and jelly. Jonathon and Melissa didn't seem too h-happy when I left… Plan to stay here for a bit. You can s-sleep if you'd like. Crane will be in a while." The doctor stood up, gathering his charts together and pushing them into a folder, gave a nod of acknowledgement.

He grabbed the bag of M&Ms and patted Bobby on the shoulder as he walked past, "Thanks, kid." He moved into one of the bedrooms. Bobby only gave a single nod.

He turned his heel to walk back across the classroom and down stone steps added that lead to the basement. The steps lead into an office. Two separate desks. There was a large glass window that looked into the rest of the basement. A chair. A bed. A sink, mirror, and toilet behind a curtain. Most of the time, it was silent in the basement. Empty. There had been three others at separate times in the basement. But only for two or three days before they would be disposed of. Now, sitting on the bed—a cot, pillow, and sleeping bag—was an exhausted young man in need of a shave. He sat in pain gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. A gray zip up was flung over the chair. He stared at the chair with a distant look, his fingers circling the base of his ring finger, like he was constantly searching it. Bobby opened the door from the office to the holding room and walked to the young man.

Bobby quirked his brow, shaking the bag by the man's head before dumping it on the bedspace next to him. "N-Need anything?"

"Melissa." Alrick lifted his eyes to Bobby's who seemed unresponsive to this request. "Where is she? Where is Crane? Is he with her?" His brows dropped to a scowl, "Is he—that freak- doing THIS to her?" He shouted at Bobby. Bobby shook his head. "WHY? WHY does he have her?"

Bobby looked at the ceiling for a few moments then back down to Alrick "Know eachother from before. D-d-Doctor Crane was Melissa's psy-psychologist." Alrick stared at him bewilderedly.

"Psychologist? For what? No. That can't be. He worked at Arkham. For the criminally insane. Melissa isn't a criminal! She'd never hurt anyone!" Bobby again was unresponsive which only angered Alrick, "SHE'S NOT A CRIMINAL!"

"Well, she h-had been. Or else she never would've been at Arkham, r-right?" Bobby pointed to the food next to him, "Eat. Drink. I was t-told that you'll need your strength." Alrick didn't look away from Bobby, "Do it. Sleep too. W-without nightmares. You're mind could use it."

"Nightmares..?"

"They'll be inducing more, you know? T-they make them. He does. Crane… Not to M-m-Melissa. No. To you, though. He gives nightmares." Alrick's face twisted for a brief moment into a flicker of dread but it died soon after.

"Why?"

Bobby shrugged. "Finds the way the m-mind works. That what he does. Finds people's f-f-fear. It's what interests him… Why you? Y-you're relevance to m-m-Melissa." Neither showed a sign of saying anything further. Bobby turned away to walk to through the offices.

"He took my engagement ring." He called after Bobby.

Bobby looked over his shoulder and raised his palms up, "It's just a sign. L-least of your w-worries. There will be m-more of that, I assume." He continued walking and put his hand on the brass knob of the door.

"Tell her I love her." Alrick had stood up now, with a slight stagger, "Please. Please just tell her I love her. I always will love her. More than anything. I don't want her to forget. Tell her I love her."

Bobby did not say anything, did not glance back, but only made an, 'Mmh' sound to show he had heard.


	7. Night Terrors

_Author's Note: Whoa, it's been a while. I decided to get back to this story after a long, long break. _

* * *

_**Chapter Seven:**_

_**Night Terrors**_

* * *

Jonathan Crane strolled the remainder of the hill to the schoolhouse from his carwhich was parked alongside Bobby's truck. One of his hired men followed behind at a distance, guns in hand, his eyes sweeping over the area and occasionally looking behind themselves. He usually had two men attend the schoolhouse with him, on previous outings, but due to Melissa being at his 'house', left two with her for safety and precautions. Besides, Bobby was also talented with a gun and always had one hidden in the belltower. Jonathan was aware of it's location- but only Jonathan- Bobby was not to tell the doctor or any other of the hired men of it's location. It was an understanding between them- a matter of mutual trust. Upon climbing the few steps onto the porch and opening the door, he looked over his shoulder at his accompaning man who nodded to show his understanding that he was to wait on the porch to guard the schoolhouse from whatever may come, for however long this may take. Due to the schoolhouse's location atop of the hill, it made being a look out rather conveinent.  
Jonathan walked into the schoolhouse, closing the door firmly behind him.

Bobby was on the couch, frayed and color faded from time, with his head in his palm with his eyes closed. At the sound of the dooor closing, he lifted his head to see Jonathan with his briefcase in hand and glasses on. Bobby was surprised that even though Jonathan had been cast out of the "professional" life, he still kept up with the attire. Dress pants, button up shirts, ties, and a dress coat. These clothing items were not neat by any means- they weren't ironed and they had creases and wrinkles in them. Some had small coffee and ink stains- or just stains that were unidentifiable. Rips and tears that were sewn together with colored string that didn't match. Maybe once every two months or so- Jonathan would send Bobby to pick him up a new suit. Or when Jonathan Crane was feeling particulary bold with not much to do for the day, he would drive himself hours away to a small city that could hardly be called a 'city' due to size (or lack therefore of), but those instances were much less rarer. He didn't want to take too great of a risk of being identified at Dr. Crane- the ex head psychologist at Arkham Asylum for the criminally insane who induced fear within a city.  
But what never changed was the leather briefcase Jonathan carried with him. It was never left too far from Dr. Crane.

"You brought him food?" Jonathan questioned smoothly as he strolled further into the room. Bobby nodded. "He ate it?" Bobby stared at Jonathan for a moment before looking up at the ceiling, glancing at the corner of the room. Bobby shruged his shoulders as he looked back to Jonathan, tilting his head to the side- he didn't know he was suppose to make sure Alrick ate the food. "Ah, well", Jonathan said with a light sigh, "Where's Cullpepper?"

The doctor suddenly emereged out of one of the bedrooms a second later, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in his clothes, "Here... I was just resting. Bobby here brought a snack and told me he was going to be staying here for a while. Haven't had much sleep lately."

"I don't like to leave Melissa for too long or else I would've been here last night as well. I just want to see she's settled and not overly emotionable... I don't want her working herself into a stressed frenzy. That does no good for the system."

Bobby and the doctor, Cullpepper, exchanged brief glances. It was a bit odd for them to hear Crane's concern of another. Jonathan must've caught this exchanged because he waved his hand the next moment, as if waving off their thoughts.

"You have everthing ready?" Jonathan asked.

"I do." Cullpepper confirmed with a solid nod, "Are you ready?" . The words must've slipped from his mouth- from his days of working in Gotham's Sacred Heart hospital, while he still had his license. Double checking to see that other doctors, interns, and nurses where ready to proceed with the procedure.

Crane looked at the older man sharply, "Yes, I'm ready." His tone was not kind. Cullpepper nodded faintly as he walked to the door of the basement, opening it, disappearing down the stone steps. Crane looked to Bobby, who sat with his head tilted, like a dog awaiting commands. After a thoughtful moment, Crane motioned Bobby to the basement as well. Bobby moved hastily across the room and down into the basement and Jonathan Crane followed.

Jonathan handed his briefcase to Bobby who broke off from the two doctors and moved into the seperated room, setting the briefcase on the desk, before he sat on a stool in the corner to watch Dr. Cullpepper and Dr. Crane on the other side of the window, moving into their work. Cullpepper pulled a tray of syrianges and small bottles behind him. Alrick sat on his bed as the doctors approached, watching Jonathan spitefully, "I want to see Melissa."

Jonathan's crisp blue eyes met Alrick's glare calmly, "Of course you do."

"Take me to her."

"No." It was at this reply that Alrick suddenly lunged at Crane- but it was in vain. The two doctors restrained Alrick to the bed with straps. Alrick let out a shout- an angry yell. There were no words in the yell, only a cry of anger. Cullpepper seemed stirred by it in some sense- upset, surprised, or just annoyed by the echoes of Alrick's shouts bounching of the cememt walls. Jonathan only stood there, looking down at Alrick, without a fleck of emotion on his face. He wasn't bothered by Alrick's yell and wasn't tempted to stop it, nor was there a look of amusement or interest on Jonathan's face. There wasn't any sign of the Scarecrow. It was only Jonathan Crane staring down at a yelling man who was looking at Jonathan with complete hate. Neither of the two paid attention to Cullpepper- even when the syriange and anesthesia were injected. Quickly, Alrick's shouts died down as his eyes closed. Cullpepper attached a few small pads to Alrick's arm for monitoring, and put an oxygen mask over Alrick's nose and mouth. Seeing that his job was complete, he quickly turned his heel to join Bobby in the seperate room.

Dr. Crane opened his coat, pulling his syriange and vial from an inner pocket. Poking the syriange into the vial, his eyes carefully watched the measurements as he pulled the liquid from the vial. Jonathan carefully tucked the vial into his pocket as his eyes fell back onto Alrick. Injecting Alrick with the fluid- Jonathan Crane's tongue ran over his teeth as the corners of his lips flickered, briefly, into an upwards curl. He backed away slowly, standing there for a few seconds to let his satisfaction soak in. Jonathan turned and joined Cullpepper and Bobby in the room, sitting behind the desk. He opened the briefcase to pull out a pad of paper and a pen.

* * *

Alrick awoke suddenly with beads of sweat on his forehead. His shirt was soaked to his chest and back in sweat. He wore a pale orange outfit that looked a bit like scrubs that doctors and nurses wore.  
The room was not his but it felt famaliar.

The walls were covered in off-white pads, as well as the ceiling and floor. He slept on a bare mattress that was on the floor. There was a door, also padded, with a small window. He stumbled to his feet in a half-jump, half-run to the door to peer out of it. There was an empty hallway- other small-windowed doors lined the hall. He considered yelling, to scream for somebody- anybody. He felt alone, isolated, and like the world had forgotten him. Alrick resisted this urge, closing his eyes tightly, clenching his hands into fists in an attempt to stop their shaking. His palms were clammy and refused to stop shaking. Trying to get control, he dug his nails into the flesh of his palms. To give his mind something else to concentrate on, rather than on his bewilderment at where he was. His hands stopped shaking. Alrick kept his eyes closed as he tried to take deep breathes to level his breathing.

"Stay calm" He mumbled to himself. A few more deep breathes. His heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest. He was seriously concerned he would drop of a heart attack, and because of his isolation, be left alone to die. "Stay CALM" He ordered himself.

He opened his eyes and let his fingers uncurl from his fist. His palms were bleeding. Alrick wiped the blood on his pants, becomming aware that he felt sick to his stomach. He looked at the shallow cuts in his palms from his fingernails for only a couple moments before letting his hands drop to his sides. There was a corner of a newspaper sticking out from under the mattress. Alrick dived for it, yanking it out as he pushed himself to his knees.

His picture was on it in the center- A large one of him in a tuxedo standing outside his family's manor from the previous fall, with a broad grin on his face, standing in the perfect posture he'd been taught since a young age. His eyes flew to the title in horror,

"FOUND CRIMINALLY INSANE AFTER MURDER OF DRIVER, TWO POLICE, FIANCE"  
'Proposed marriage, Later that night- Driver to the family shot, fiance's body found in river bludgeoned to death, two Gotham City police found murdered the next day in connection'

There was a smaller photo below his of Alrick and Melissa riding horses together, smiling for the picture. In the top left corner, a picture of the driver from a few years prior- smiling with his wife and three children. In the top right corner, a picture of his father with his arm around his crying mother, trying to shover reporters out of the way, leaving the courthouse. And in the bottom corner of the page- A picture of Arkham Asylum.

Alrick felt his body go numb as he pushed the paper away. In the next instant, he was on his quivering hands and knees, throwing up on the floor. He pushed himself into a corner of the room.

He was in Arkham Asylum. Judged insane. He killed the driver that his family has known for years- the driver that taught him how to drive on back country roads. Alrick knew his family. He killed two policemen. He didn't remember any of it. How could he not remember? He killed Melissa. He killed his love. He killed her with his own hands... and threw her into the river. He _beat_her to death.

Now he was alone. Abandoned by his friends and family. They were ashamed. He was crazy. He was criminally insane. Locked away in Arkham Asylum for the rest of his days.

He killed Melissa.

Alrick began screaming.

* * *

"Patient is excessively sweating, fast breathing, and has an steady, elevated heart rate." Dr. Cullpepper said quietly to nobody in particular.

Jonathan Crane would watch Alrick strain against the restrains before dropping his eyes to scribble notes on the paper. Without warning- Alrick began screaming. Dr. Crane looked up to him- he was still sleeping as he screamed. His cool blue eyes dropped down to the pad again to continue the notes, a small victorious smirk grew on the Scarecrow's lips.


End file.
